


Soulmate, Dry Your Eye

by matan4il



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, So much angst, Unrequited Love, alternative ending, death bed musings, drinking used for self-numbing, eventual major character death of old age, one mention of throwing up, sex used for self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: Buck doesn't have to ask Eddie whether his feelings are returned. Oh, Maddie's been encouraging him to, ever since she got him to confess that he has fallen in love with his best friend, insisting that he'll never know until he tries. Buck doesn't have to, though. Because he knows Eddie. He can read his friend like no one else can and in a manner that's unlike anything Buck has ever shared with anyone else. He can understand him so well, it's almost like he was destined to.Which is the bitter irony of it, because that's exactly how he knows that Eddie isn't and won't ever be in love with him.OrThe unrequited love fic I was encouraged to write for Buddie, with two possible endings.
Relationships: Ana Flores/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 134
Kudos: 215





	1. Soulmate, Dry Your Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the beta reading to [Lana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ) and [Toughpaperround](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/pseuds/ToughPaperRound). I appreciate it extra hard considering the angst!
> 
> This wasn't easy to write, I appreciate anyone who might read it and feedback is more than welcome. You can also contact me at [my Tumblr](https://matan4il.tumblr.com).

Buck doesn't have to ask Eddie whether his feelings are returned. Oh, Maddie's been encouraging him to, ever since she got him to confess that he has fallen in love with his best friend, insisting that he'll never know until he tries. Buck doesn't have to, though. Because he knows Eddie. He can read his friend like no one else can and in a manner that's unlike anything Buck has ever shared with anyone else. He can understand him so well, it's almost like he was destined to. 

Which is the bitter irony of it, because that's exactly how he knows that Eddie isn't and won't ever be in love with him. 

Buck can sense it in all the little things he gives that Eddie doesn't reciprocate, not in the same manner. He feels it in the way that he's his happiest when he's with Eddie, but lately, his best friend has been his happiest when he talks about Ana. Nothing's happened between the two of them yet, but Buck can see it coming. And he wishes Eddie had never met her. Maybe then he would have had a chance. And at the same time, he can't wish for that. Because Ana makes his friend happy and Buck loves him just this side of too much, which means he can't wish Eddie's happiness away. 

So instead, Buck suffers. Quietly. Always staying close enough to Eddie, to help, to not deprive him of their friendship, stays close for the sprinkles of joy that this still offers. Close enough to see in great and accurate detail how it's turning, the knife that's bleeding Buck dry.

Because Eddie ends up falling for Ana faster and harder than anyone would have anticipated. He grins stupidly at the mere mention of her name. Even when no one is bringing her up, everything reminds him of her, triggers a story or provides an excuse for another compliment about how amazing she is. And Buck listens to it all and nods. She must be, for his best friend to love her like this. He can't resent her being incredible and bringing that into Eddie's life. It's only that listening to him go on about her makes Buck realize to what a degree he's been wishing for this man - that he's felt so much for - to talk about him like that.

Holding all of that in, it could have only lasted for so long. There's an evening that makes that distinctly clear to Buck for the first time. That night, he wasn't invited over to Eddie's house, because he didn't have to be. He wasn't a guest there, that much has been clear for the longest while, and Tuesday nights were always their thing. They'd hang out at Eddie's, have a couple of beers, maybe watch a movie or play video games as well, sometimes Chris was there in the living room, other times he wasn't, but without fail, they'd always talk. They'd share the important stuff that was preoccupying them. It was a weekly cleansing and how their friendship got to be as strong as it was. Those also were the moments when Buck felt most complete. When he was giving Eddie pieces of himself and was getting the same time in return, when he felt so perfectly heard and understood by the one person who had become most meaningful to him.

There was no sign that this Tuesday night would be any different. But then Buck walked down the path leading to the front entrance of Eddie's house only to hear adult voices talking from inside. He stopped in his tracks. A woman's voice was intermingled with his best friend's. Laughing. Flirtily. Buck didn't mean to spy, but the living room window was lit, its curtains drawn to the side as they always were and all it took was one head-turn without thinking to confirm Buck's creeping fear. Ana was sitting on the couch next to the man she was dating, leaning in, conversing animatedly with an Eddie who was mirroring all of that, his face shining bright with joy. And Buck watched with eyes that were dying with want, taking in the sight of everything that he's ever wished to see on Eddie's face and how it was all right there... and all of it was thanks to, as well as for, another person.

No one will ever find out how long Buck stood there, before he turned around and left.

That was when the drift started. Not as a form of punishment, though some might think so, given how upset he was. The next day, when he wanted to ask Eddie about that evening, he couldn't bring himself to voice his hurt, it would have given too much away. Instead, he apologized for standing Eddie up and watched as his friend's face morphed into an 'oh shit, that's what I forgot' expression, which only drove the knife further in. Buck was that dispensable. Not that that's what Eddie said, Buck's little white lie allowed him to get away with a, "Don't worry about it," and after a moment's hesitation, it was followed by, "I had Ana over anyway, so you didn't miss out on anything."

"Oh, you did?" Buck's question was delivered perfectly, his speech sounded decidedly unperturbed, no awareness or intent behind it, holding nothing but this pass that he was giving his friend. He's about to add another question. It wasn't meant as a punishment, nor a trap, Buck just needed an answer, but he was scared of hurting his friend with a confrontation. So he smoothed over the edges of his own pain and pursued an explanation in the most innocent, least invasive way he could. "Did you guys have a date?"

"Yeah, I mean... Shit, I'm sorry, man! It wasn't supposed to be at the expense of our usual thing, but she's had these evening meetings at the school lately, so the only time we could meet was after a shift... Only you know how it goes, I had to cancel on her twice because of calls we had that were too much for me to go on a date after and yesterday evening was basically the only time left for me to make it up to her by still meeting up this week. I hope that's okay with you."

Buck nodded at that and thought that yeah, that right there, that kind of honesty and consideration for other people even when it might make things awkward for himself, that's a part of why he loves Eddie, loves him so much that it's leaving him with a gaping hole right at his center, loves him to the point that this can't go on as it has been. Buck needed space and he had to give his best friend some, too.

And so the drift begins. With small things at first. Sitting a bit further apart at the station's dining table or on the couch, keeping more physical distance between them on calls, not initiating fist bumps anymore, hesitating to respond when Eddie does, talking only a little and sharing a lot less. Finding far too many excuses to cancel their weekly evenings together, doing it enough time ahead of Tuesday to make sure Eddie can have ample opportunity to establish plans with Ana instead.

Buck notices a suspicious look in Eddie's eyes from time to time, in reaction to all of these things, but especially when he's given yet another explanation on why they have to abort yet another hang-out. It hurts more than Buck can explain, the stubborn hope he feels at the sight of that look each time, that maybe he could fill his best friend in on why he's pulling away and get the answers he could only hope for, the ones he would give his life for. Yet, whenever he hears Eddie excitedly answering the team's questions about how things are going with Ana, Buck knows that his wishes are nothing but a wild fantasy that will do nothing other than destroy him if he doesn't let go of them. The knife twists again and the human body only has so much blood in it. So he smiles blankly at Eddie's expression of suspicion, pretending not to have picked up on it, saying nothing and walking away quickly, before his friend might try to bring it up.

After a short while, it becomes obvious to him that he has to reduce how often he sees Chris, no matter how much he loves that kid or how painful the thought alone is. That's maybe the worst part, but Eddie and his son are a package deal, nobody can have one without the other. No one can date Eddie, or even be his friend, without falling in love with Chris. And similarly, it's impossible for Buck to attempt detaching himself from his friend while staying so close to the boy. At first, Buck simply limits how much he hangs out with Chris and even then, he makes sure to only spend time with the kid in neutral, exterior settings. At a park or outside the school, but never in his apartment or Eddie's house. 

Twice, his best friend tried his old trick of showing up unannounced with Christopher. Buck, who was sure this was coming, answered the door, but both times he physically blocked the entrance with his own body, making sure that they couldn't enter as he apologized and explained why they wouldn't be able to. In the first instance, he claimed that an exterminator had just fumigated the place that morning and while it was safe to be in there, it wasn't recommended for little kids to be inside the loft for at least 24 hours. The second time, he apologized and said he had company upstairs. Eddie got what Buck was pretending to hint at. On both occasions, he appeared disappointed, but left rather than compromise Chris, as anyone who knew Eddie could gamble he would. After the second attempt, he tried to talk to Buck at the station about it, but was met with a wall of pretend ignorance and shrugs. He tried again after the end of the shift, on their way to their vehicles, asking with concern if it was back to Buck 1.0 and if something happened to trigger that pattern, but when he got only laconic answers and no real response, he dropped it for that day, though he still takes every opportunity he can to gauge what's going on.

After a few weeks, Buck has to admit that it's not working. Meeting Chris even in the most removed context still entails seeing Eddie, who's always looking for answers on why their common bridge has been scorched. It tells Buck that as much as he doesn't want to, maybe he has to burn it down. Temporarily, he tells himself. Wood bridges that can be taken down like that can also be rebuilt later, in stone. It will be for the better in the long run. It will give him time to heal and stop hurting. Will enable him to be there, in the presence of Eddie, Chris and even Ana, without losing a part of his soul to pain.

But how can he do that, let Christopher down in such a way? He keeps going back and forth in his mind until one afternoon when Eddie shows up to one of their park play dates with Ana by his side. They're walking hand in hand, intermittently smiling at each other and laughing with Chris. They're becoming a family, Buck can see that now. And he's the odd man out. Throughout the afternoon, he notices how swallowing his internal turmoil isn't working and he can't help but be noticeably gloomy. Chris asks him if he's ok and Buck lies in the most enthusiastic voice he can muster, but there's a crack in there and he's pretty sure that this bright kid didn't miss it. This whole time, he thought he'd be hurting Chris by pulling away, but now it dawns on him that it's actually his company that's upsetting this precious boy and is bringing him down, not lifting him up. And Eddie's observing Buck questioningly as well, but he's not pushing for hints like he did before. That makes sense. Everyone would give up after being rejected and pushed away enough times, but that still makes Buck feel even lonelier. He's not doing them or himself any favors like this. Taking up their time, inflicting them with his increasingly morose presence.

The right thing to do is to remove himself from their company even further, for everyone's sake. For him to have a chance to get over this. For them to have the space they need for their emerging family without the burden of heartbroken intruders.

He stops setting up Chris play dates through Eddie. He misses both of them every single day, but that's the way it has to be.

At the station, his best friend is once again doing all he can for them to talk, but that just can't be. Buck doesn't need to have this conversation in order to know how it will go down. He can guess the exact words that Eddie would use and how he'd push and insist, how he would keep at it until Buck would break and confess his feelings. And then the man that means more to Buck than he knew was possible would shut down. Because Eddie wouldn't be able to reciprocate his feelings. For one second he'd stop and check, but then he'd quickly find that answer lying within him, as certain and unchangeable as one's own eye color. And yet, he'd be aware that this in itself would push Buck away. 

So Eddie would remain silent and stunned, confused as to what needs to be done in order to fix the situation between them. And the silence would unintentionally stretch between them for longer than is comfortable for either one. Then eventually Buck would snap, not being able to swallow his hurt anymore, and he would try to remove himself from all of it. He would try leaving whatever place they'd be at and that would force Eddie to speak, but all the words used would prove to be the wrong ones. Because he's an honest man and he wouldn't be able to be truthful and, at the same time, offer Buck that which he needs. Everything out of Eddie's mouth would end up being an attempt to emphasize the 'but' in this situation. 'I can't love you back, but...' essentially. Eddie would do his best to offer things like, 'but you're still my friend,' maybe 'but this changes nothing,' or 'but we can still hang out.' Crumbs from Eddie's table and it's undeniable that Buck is starving, he's fucking famished, so a part of him would be tempted to take whatever comfort prizes he can get, but... 

But accepting them would feel like a confirmation of how pathetic he's become, of what a sad, self-humiliating puppy he truly is, maybe has been all along, quietly mewling under the table that Eddie is sat next to with Ana, a pitiful mutt licking from the floor whatever has accidentally been dropped off by the pair sitting comfortably above him, paying him no mind. 

That is how the conversation would unfold, there's no doubt in Buck's mind. And if him and Eddie are both aware of these unrequited feelings, it would make everything worse. It would become a constant barrier between them, an invisible wall separating the team that they were supposed to be, even when they would be physically close. No, it's better to not have the talk. It's best to pretend, because then maybe, just maybe, if all this is left un-exchanged between them, maybe there would be a chance for their friendship to come back from this at some point, somewhere down the line.

Except Eddie won't stop trying at work. Which means Buck has to take a leave from the station.

He tells Bobby that he needs some personal time off, to sort a few important things out. And his Captain nods, but there are speckles of doubt hidden in his understanding look. Not that Buck lets himself be dragged into a conversation with him either. There's a lot of problems that this man can fix, but he can't change who Eddie loves, so he can't do anything to repair Buck's broken heart. So a leave for personal reasons it is.

Bobby makes a suggestion and Buck agrees that this time off wouldn't be limited, meaning if things work out well, it could end up being a short leave. His Captain doesn't know it, but that possibility depends on how Buck's feelings will unravel and if there will be a shift in them. 

When he goes home, Buck doesn't tell Eddie that he'll not be coming in again any time soon. That will only open the door for a stream of questions and, unlike with Bobby, there will be no getting out of that without at least some of them being answered. Which is really not something Buck can handle at the moment.

And as he expected, after the first shift he misses, Eddie comes around to the loft. When he shows up on the first evening of this leave, he's alone, no Christopher by his side. He finds out quickly that in anticipation of this, Buck has changed the lock on the door and his key is useless. Eddie bangs and then pounds on the door. He tries shouting out Buck's name several times. The door remains locked. Eventually he leaves, but two days later, he shows up again and everything's repeated. Buck sits on the stairs that lead down from his bedroom, on the lowest ones right by his loft's entrance, listening to the noises that profound friendship can make and wishing that they were enough. That he could save this true companionate bond from the wreckage of his unrequited love.

The third time that Eddie comes around, he slips a letter under the door. Buck supposes he left Eddie no other choice, since all of his best friend's text messages and voicemails have been read and heard, but were left unanswered. After the sound of footsteps has faded away, Buck moves from the stairs to take the envelope. He opens it and reads the short message. "I don't know what the radio silence is about. I care about you, idiot. Whatever problem you're not telling Bobby about, you don't have to deal with it alone. I can help."

Eddie can't help him. Even if his friend wanted to do exactly that, no one can force their own heart into being in love with a specific person. Especially not if they're already in the process of falling for someone else.

The next day, Buck packs some stuff and goes on the road. He doesn't have a specific destination in mind. He's simply going to drive around without any clue how long this will take, with only the certainty that he needs to get away from his best friend's attempts to reach him and from everything around him that constantly reminds him of Eddie.

Abby comes to mind. This was her solution, wasn't it? To change her environment in order to find herself. Only Buck doesn't need to do that, he already found himself in Eddie's eyes. Already saw who he is in the image he had where he was standing by that man's side, for as many years as they might have, and co-parenting Christopher together. That's the future that Buck wants. That he can't have. Unlike Abby, he's leaving in search of what's left after he has learned that he won't get to be himself.

He comes back after a couple of months. Only, he doesn't really. Maddie wants to hear all about his adventures, but he had none. The roads he drove on led nowhere, the stops he made on his way were of little interest to him. He ate in diners and slept in motels, because he didn't feel deserving of anything more. Some people flirted with him. He tried to flirt back. It was mechanical and awkward. Embarrassing almost. It never amounted to anything. In the wake of losing his whole self, he found nothing. His love broke him every single night while he was away, dreaming of Eddie. Missing Chris. Feeling like a ghost of himself, haunted by the family he had and has no longer. He's still somewhere out there on the road, lost. Looking for a way to come back to them, to his sister, his friends, to Eddie and Christopher, without this baggage of unwanted love that threatens to tear Buck apart.

She listens to him with sad eyes and he thinks it's because he was confessing to her that he had failed to get over Eddie. But he was wrong and he's sure of it as soon as she says, with great effort, "Buck, there's something I need to tell you."

"It's Eddie, isn't it?" Buck asks. She nods and, in her eyes, he sees his own sad reflection. "And Ana?"

She blinks, but then she repeats her nod. "It's not official yet, but Chimney told me that Eddie's talked about proposing to her."

There.

The end to any illusions he might have still harbored. Eddie must be damn smitten to be thinking about it relatively early on in their relationship. Buck's heart is smashed into so many tiny pieces and he can sense each one like a shard of glass, with nowhere to go, poking at his chest, stabbing him with thousands of little jabs from the inside.

Maddie's eyes are still on him. Can she see him bleeding out?

It wasn't far enough, Buck finally says to her. It was too temporary. He was constantly pulled back by his longing, his healing delayed by the knowledge that he would be returning to the same place with the same loved ones whose company he was craving. He couldn't move on. Maybe this upcoming engagement is a sign. He'll put in for a transfer. A more permanent change could do the trick and help him stop this foolishness. Once it's over, he can ask to return to the 118. And maybe by the time the wedding comes around, this will all be behind them and he'll be able to attend the ceremony.

Maddie tries to argue with him. Eddie hasn't proposed yet. Ana hasn't said yes. He can't plan his career and the next who knows how many months based on an event that may never take place. She's very logical and probably right, but all Buck wants is her out of his loft, so he can lay down in his bed and let the pain rip through him. It's too much to bear, even for her. He gets her to leave and once she's gone, he heads straight for his bedroom. Head buried in the pillow, in some phantom semblance of the softness that would be Eddie's embrace, the howls of pain that he's been holding back for months come out. Followed by body-jerking sobs, gripping all of him. Then howls again, only he's exhausted, so these come out weaker and intermingled with his continued crying. The sounds coming out of him grow fainter, the shaking of his body subsides. But there is no relief.

He puts in for a transfer the next day.

His leave is still ongoing, so he doesn't bother to come into the station to do this. He talks to Bobby on the phone, which isn't easy, but every attempt to meet up gets blocked quickly. Buck keeps insisting on getting help with his request and doesn't let this deviate in any other direction. The only personal request he makes is for Bobby to only tell the team he won't be coming back after it's done and he's started his job elsewhere. Whatever forms and information need to be submitted, he handles online. He stares for a while at the form which states that he's asking to be moved to a fire department in another state. Clicks 'submit'.

It doesn't take too long before he gets the confirmation and details of his new station and right away, he starts looking for apartments in that area. Buck doesn't even wait for the loft to be sold, he entrusts that to Maddie and packs up his things. There aren't many of them and quite a few he simply leaves behind. He was never that attached to objects anyway. Only to people.

The new station seems fine, the team members are nice, the Captain capable. Buck keeps his distance from all of them. There was a time when he wouldn't have been able to do that, but he's just not interested in replacements for the people he had no choice but to leave behind. Nor would it be fair to his new teammates, to let them think they could ever be more than colleagues.

Maddie fills him in when Chim informs her that the team is updated on the transfer. She did as she was asked and kept the news to herself. When it comes out, she calls Buck, upset. It's affected her relationship with her husband, who was angry that both of them have kept him in the dark. It takes a few talks, but they do eventually get past it. They have a beautiful baby girl and a whole future together. Buck knew his request for Maddie to keep quiet wouldn't put a dent in that for long. 

After that, greeting cards arrive on occasion. Hand drawn ones from Chris that Eddie keeps sending. He must have gotten the address from Maddie. The drawings are beyond lovely. They tell Buck that Christopher has been thinking about him and illustrate what the boy he adores has been up to lately. They all include Ana. One of them centers on a new ring.

The first greeting card arrives with a letter from Eddie. It's simple and full of understanding. 

'Buck, whatever the problem is... I know you love Chris. You wouldn't walk out on us without a damn good reason. Whatever it is, you got me, OK? Me and everyone. I get it, must be something way bad. We're here the second you want help.'

It's exactly what Buck would predict that the note would say. It cuts deeply: how well he knows Eddie, how much he misses him and how little room there is that he's wrong. He places everything carefully in a box, the letter and the cards, even including the one with the ring. Like a treasure that's kept in a chest to lock it away, safe in the fact that it's there, but without ever looking at it.

He doesn't reply, but every few months, he sends a small gift for Chris. No letter or card of his own attached. Just enough to say he hasn't stopped caring, without speaking.

Buck doesn't go out exploring his new neighborhood. He's fine with going to work, coming back to his new apartment and finishing the day with an ordered pizza and movie. The firefighter calls are what fills his life now, but after more than half a year has passed, he has to admit it to himself. The distance, even in its more permanent state, isn't helping. A new place, different people, don't make him forget or love any less. Instead, everything being so foreign only makes him homesick. And after all, more than anyone else, Eddie and Christopher were his home. Even though he wasn't theirs. Even if they have a new one, with someone else. He develops a new habit of buying alcohol on his way back from every shift.

Maddie updates him that a date for the wedding is set. He has to choose what he wants to do. Whether he'd attend or not. He buys a suit. Books a plane ticket, asks his sister to save her couch for him. Almost cancels the ticket a million times. Never goes through with it. Tries to picture what it would be like and struggles to breathe. Considers how this will change everything with no possible turning back. A distance more permanent than him moving away. Hopes that maybe if he's there to witness it, he'll finally be freed from the chains of his love to a man who was unavailable to him even before this wedding. 

The closer the date gets, the more Buck cycles through every reason to go and each one to stay put. The plane will get him to Los Angeles the evening before the wedding. He doesn't have to show up.

The day of his flight, the closer the decision gets, all he can think about is how he could be seeing Eddie. Buck's flooded by the image of his best friend, handsome as ever, smile brilliant, hopeful and shy, all mixed together, like the first day when Eddie had arrived at the 118. And Buck could be there, by his side, looking at Christopher's beaming face. He has no clue whether he's making the right choice, all he has is an overwhelming desire that, for the first time in he can't even tell how long, he's about to succumb to.

Maddie's happy to see him and so is Chim. They both hug him tight, his sister gives a nod and her husband takes the hint and approaches first, so she can hug Buck next and not let go too soon. It's nice. Probably the closest thing to wanted that he's felt in a very long while.

That comfort is diluted quickly by the small talk that they make after that. They ask questions about his new life and are honestly interested, but it only serves to showcase how little Buck has going on currently. He can't tell them he's been dating or even going out and socializing. The conversation awkwardly dies down until Chim excuses himself for the night, leaving the two siblings alone in the living room.

"I'm worried about you," Maddie says.

She's most likely right to be, but there's nothing either one of them can do about it.

"I'm here," he points out, "I wasn't sure that I would be, but I am."

"Buck, this thing with Eddie..."

"Was never going to happen, I didn't need the wedding to tell me that. Maddie, my head hurts and I'm really tired from the flight. Do you mind if we talk about this tomorrow, after the ceremony?"

Her eyes say, 'no,' but after a silent moment of intense gazing on her part, she nods and adds, "Of course."

She clears the living room and he's left alone with his thoughts about the following day, which if he could, he'd try to dismiss in a similar manner.

The morning of Eddie's wedding, Buck wakes up like he imagines a convict does to his own execution. He washes his face, brushes his teeth, eats his breakfast and puts on his tux mechanically. His mind isn't working, it's been numbed by pain. He hums his answers to whatever questions Chim and Maddie ask him, not even hearing them. He's ready before they are and waiting for them gives him time he did not need for the pressure inside him to build.

They get into the car and drive. The venue isn't too far away. A Catholic church. Naturally. Eddie and Ana fit even in terms of denomination.

They fit.

It hits him in the face like a slap he's earned for having spoken rudely. They fit and he's redundant. When he'll show up, Eddie will fawn over him, happy to see his best friend, worried about him, wanting to hear everything about what went wrong and why Buck left... by showing up, he's going to make Eddie's wedding day all about him. The old accusation from several of his former teammates goes around and around in his head until it bursts out of him in the form of, "Stop!"

They're almost by the church, they can already see it, and Chimney, who was already slowing down, is so taken aback by the outburst that he hits the brakes immediately.

"I'll get out here, you go on without me," Buck exclaims and gets out of the car before anyone has time to argue with him. He takes one look at the church, the wide grass lawn in front of it, the steps where everyone is standing, and takes off in the other direction. 

He roams around aimlessly. Never stopping to check his watch or looking to see where he's headed. He's not thinking, just walking, but it finally dawns on him that it must have been in circles when he finds himself by the church again. He can hear the bridal march playing from inside. Ana must be walking down the aisle towards Eddie.

Buck looks about him. There are relatively thick tree branches right by the church's windows. It wouldn't be too much of an effort to climb up and get to a position from which he could look in. He tests his theory. It's not as easy as he thought, to do this in a suit, but he's strong and stubborn. He makes it and peeks in.

His gaze finds the altar in a split second and the very familiar, very missed face of Eddie. Beautiful, precisely like Buck remembers him. Maybe even more so, the man is absolutely blissed out, looking at the woman standing in front of him in her wedding gown. Ana's back is turned to Buck, but there's little doubt that she's reciprocating the huge smile resting on Eddie's lips. On her husband. It's almost done. They both turn towards the priest and Buck can trace his best friend's profile. Solemn and joyful. At peace. Chris is standing by their side, he must have acted as the ring bearer. They all radiate contentment.

Buck remains there until almost the end of the ceremony. His arms and legs ache, but he doesn't climb down. Instead, he searches for another position, one that allows him to see the newly wedded couple and their son as they come out of the building at a slow pace. They're the picture of a perfect, happy family. And Buck watches with eyes that are doomed, watches everything that he used to dream of, all that he's ever wanted, and how Eddie is having it all, without him.

Buck used to think the worst of this was how much he was missed. He never doubted that he was, at least the old version of him, the one before he started breaking. That even though Eddie and Chris were building something with Ana which didn't include him, there was still some void in their lives without him. That Buck was still someone they wanted there, with them. Which was why, when he was removing himself from their lives, he believed that he was doing that in order to find his way back to them in whatever diminished capacity he could.

But he was wrong. They were happy together, the three of them. Whatever void Buck left behind him, it has shrunk considerably, maybe was even almost completely filled already. They've moved on from him, while he failed to get over his heartbreak. There was no going back to them, not like this. There was no point.

He waits for the church to clear out. Orders an uber to the airport. He didn't book a flight back. He supposes that was his dumb hope that he wouldn't have to. But it's not peak travel season, he can buy his way into one with a bit more money than the airline deserves, maybe use the help of a little flirting for that purpose. He can still turn on the old charm when he needs to. If he hasn't done that in so long, it's only because he hasn't wanted to.

The apartment he returns to seems emptier and colder than ever. For the first time since he's moved here, Buck doesn't wish for the day he'll leave it. He's giving up and accepting this as his place.

The time that passes stops bothering him, he's no longer on some internal count, watching for the moment he can get back to his loved ones for good. The job brings him a lot less comfort than it used to, but he's not quitting it. Despite the joy he used to get from it having been diminished, it's the bit of good he can still do. He also always has the holidays to look forward to, that's when he regularly asks for his annual time off and flies out to see Maddie and Chimney.

It's on one of these visits that his sister tells him about Ana being pregnant. She does it in a very low voice, clearly concerned about how the news will affect him. She's right to be. It feels like a deadly blow to a heart that he thought was already completely shattered and gone. 

"Why did you tell me?" he asks.

"I thought you should know. He was your best friend and..."

"And I should congratulate him. You're right," he finishes for her, thinks about it for a second, then adds, "Do you think you can do that for me? Say that to him on my behalf. That I'm happy for him. And for Chris, he's going to be so excited to have a younger sibling..." His voice cracks so audibly, it forces him to stop.

"I will," Maddie nods and her eyes are big and sad, like she sees even more of his heartbreak than what normally slips out. That's become such a fixture between them whenever she looks at him since she heard about Eddie and Ana dating and it makes it harder for Buck to be around his own sister, despite her best intentions. He can't stand her pity. It makes him small, in addition to broken. And it doesn't change anything for the better anyway.

"Do me a favor from now on, though? Please, don't tell me more good news like that. I'm not going to contact him. It's not going to help bring our friendship back. Okay?"

It takes her a minute of silence, but then she answers softly, "Alright," and Buck guesses that looking at him, she's seen enough to convince her that he's right. That hearing this is killing him and they're all better off if he doesn't know.

On his way home from the airport, despite the late hour and what he had told Maddie, he does stop his car at a gas station and buys a greeting card at their store. He entertains the notion of throwing in a quick 'congrats' under the cute drawing of a baby being carried by a stork, but decides against it. It's enough for him to put it in an envelope that he'll send to his sister, for her to pass along to Eddie and his wife. It's supposed to be the right thing to do, but it doesn't make Buck feel better than before. He only hopes that it would be nice for that family to receive it.

He sits back down in the driver's seat, but instead of pulling out of the gas station's parking lot, he stares blankly out of the window. He only realizes tears have been streaming down his face when his blinking blurs his field of vision. He waits until they subside and he can drive safely. It takes a while.

After that news, he has a hard time passing young kids on the street or seeing couples with a newborn on his TV screen or in commercials. Buck always thought he'd be a dad. 

And the truth is that for a short while, he was. 

Now that's been lost to him due to a love that he cannot extinguish and that could have never been returned. It suffocates him just to think about it and missing Chris hurts in every single part of Buck that still makes him who he is. And as if that isn't bad enough, he used to have a secret fantasy, one he managed to keep so deeply hidden, he hardly even acknowledged it himself. It was an image of him, Eddie and Chris, together as a family in all the ways that count, bringing into the fold another child. Someone Chris could be an older brother to, play with and guide. A kid who Buck would have gotten to co-parent together with Eddie from day one, sharing all the joys and frustrations, every obstacle and win along the way.

That's when he starts going to that gay night club he's passed on his way back from work countless times. He's not looking for love. It's a given that he can't have that. But he can have sex and lots of it. Forget himself when he lets some random guy split him open in a dirty bathroom stall. It doesn't do anything to sooth Buck's soul, but he begs for it to be rough and when he gets what he asked for, it does make things better. 

Because this particular form of pain, he only feels it in his body. 

It takes his mind off pain elsewhere and at this point, that's something. He gets increasingly drunk from one night to the next and the guys he sleeps with, they get blurrier and harder to distinguish one from another. Most of the time he's shoved into the wall and doesn't see them anyway, but remembering them, that starts to blur as well, as it should. If only there was anything Buck could do to dim the memory of Eddie and the family they had together. Maybe even erase it from his mind. Wouldn't that be better than his current misery?

It's starting to affect his job, but he doesn't care as much as he used to. His new station's captain berates him, but the reproaches fail to make an impact. Nothing can when Buck's insides are hollow with numbness, in between bouts of remembering and hurting to an impossible degree all over again. He can't tell which moments are worse. When he's numb, he wants to ache, to feel something, anything. When he hurts, he wants to make it stop, at all costs. Either way, another night, another round of endless drinks at the gay club, another guy in the dirty bathroom stall, carelessly pushing Buck down against a plastic wall like the nothing that he feels he is.

One particular night is the worst. He drinks so much he ends up already being nauseous in the bathroom stall, not after he's left the club as it usually plays out. The guy behind him already has Buck's pants pulled down and his own dick prepared and starting to push in, when the nausea hits. It's so bad that it's almost violent and Buck tries to mumble that he needs to vomit, half turns around to shove the guy away from him. He doesn't have to put in too much effort, because his mumbles are cut off by the projectile forcing itself out of his mouth and spilling all over, on Buck himself as well as on the other man. Whoever this guy is, he's not happy about it, cursing in return and grabbing for toilet paper to clean himself and his own dick. It's a good enough opportunity for Buck to clumsily pull up his pants and, unsteady on his feet, get out of there. He goes outside, where there's fresh air that might cut the nausea off, or where he can at least end up in a more acceptable corner to throw up in. Buck doesn't get that far, a few steps outside of the stall and he realizes that he's too physically weak, too wobbly on his legs and his knees are about to give way. He's going to fall to the floor in this dirty bathroom and no one will even know if he doesn't get up. 

Eddie won't know.

That's a comfort. And it's a curse.

Buck's knees don't hit the floor like he expects them to. They almost do, but an inch away from it, there are arms that appear out of nowhere, grabbing him from behind and stopping his fall mid air.

Is it the guy from the stall? Buck blinks, but can't tell. His head is spinning and he's too out of it to raise his head properly. Whoever caught him is doing that for him, lifting his head, but even when he's looking in the right direction, there's a wavy motion to everything that stops him from being able to focus on the image of the face before him.

"Come on, darling. Let's take care of you," he hears and it's all wrong. That's not what Eddie sounds like and it's not how he speaks.

Not Eddie, that's his last thought before he slips away.

When he comes to, he's in his apartment. He's hung over and the headache he's suffering is terrible, but he's dressed and clean. And compared to his usual nights out at the club, his body isn't hurting.

For a few long, dark moments, his mind plays out all of the horror scenarios on how last night could have ended. That might not have bothered him, but he strays into thoughts of how they would have told Maddie, how his old team would have taken it, including Eddie. And Chris. At some point, that boy would have learned the details, too. What effect might that have on that boy? It's the first real, unshakable reason Buck has to hate what he's become. To want to do better, throw out the alcohol bottles, stop going out in search of rough strangers and make sure they never have to hear the gruesome details of his death. 

When he strolls out of his bedroom, Buck discovers a guy asleep on the couch in his living room. He thinks he may recognize the man, one of the bartenders who work at the club. That's a small mercy of sorts, having had mostly sober starts to his evenings out which allow him to place that guy's features.

Craig, he introduces himself when he wakes up. Turns out, he noticed Buck coming in night after night. And saw him disappearing into the bathrooms with the biggest sleazeballs around, repeatedly. Craig's been wanting to say something for a while, but he didn't want to overstep. Last night, he just happened to be at the end of his shift and stopping by the bathrooms before going home.

Buck wonders if that's really all there was to it. The guy clearly has a crush. And not only that, he cares. He asks all the right questions, gently prodding out of Buck a few details about why he's been acting like he was. Not everything. Not Eddie. Just a general admission that things have not been good in the love department.

Craig asks about condoms. Was it safe, all that sex in the bathrooms? Buck can't answer that and the guy insists that he needs to get tested.

That's weird. To be cared about again.

Buck leans into it. A part of him is aware that it's unfair. Craig is a nice guy, he's decent and kind. He didn't have to help out some stranger in a filthy bathroom stall, didn't have to go through a wallet in search of an address and keys, like he confessed that he did, in order to bring that passed out stranger home. Even then, Craig could have simply dropped Buck off, not stayed and looked after him without taking advantage of his state of unconsciousness. It's hard to say no to that, to push someone like that away, as much as he deserves better than this mess. It's especially hard since Buck hasn't been kind to himself in such a long time that suddenly, when it's being offered so freely, it's nearly impossible to resist.

Buck agrees to get tested and Craig insists on coming along. They go for a coffee after. It turns into a series of coffees and lots of nice, small chats over them. They don't have a lot of things in common, but the conversation always flows and Buck isn't alone.

Even if he isn't interested in Craig romantically. Which doesn't stop the guy from reading it wrong, when he mentions one day that he told his mom about them dating. It's Buck's fault, really. He should have seen it coming. He wasn't oblivious to Craig's crush on him. But now that assumptions have been made by a man so kind, after Buck's life has been devoid of that, he simply doesn't have the strength to set things right and go back to being completely on his own again. So he goes along with it, figuring that he can put an end to this if it gets too serious.

He fails. He has his test results back and he's somehow, by sheer dumb luck, in the clear. Not long after that, when Craig ends one of their evenings together with an invitation to spend the night, his eyes are big and hopeful. And Buck can't help thinking, that's what he would have looked like himself if he was ever lucky enough to get this far with Eddie. There's something inside Buck, not a heart exactly anymore, because that's been too tormented, but some weird remnant of one, that still hurts at the thought. Which is why he can't push Craig away. He goes along with it, with the mutual undressing, with mimicking the gestures and sounds of enthusiasm and desire. He's tempted to pretend that this is Eddie, but there's no way to do that. Buck's too sober and Craig is nice. He's so very nice. Nice to converse with, nice to look at, nice to kiss. Eddie wouldn't have been nice, he would have been an unmitigated thrill. He would have set fire in Buck's stomach, unleashed storms to course through his veins. It's impossible to confuse that with... nice. So instead of closing his eyes and thinking of Eddie, Buck shuts them and tries not to think at all.

After that, it's like moving your skis only a little and finding yourself accidentally skiing down the side of the mountain at an insane, unexpected speed. That happened to Buck once as a kid and he can't think of any other description for how his relationship with Craig moves forward. Gravity has grabbed a hold on Buck when all he meant to do was just move a bit, after being frozen in place for months on end. And somehow, at every crossroads, the same dynamic plays out. How nice this man is. How much Buck owes him. How little he deserves to be hurt. How bleak it would be to return to loneliness. And so the slide downhill continues. They move in together.

Maddie is happy to hear about it or at least Buck thinks she is. He's been keeping her at arm's length for longer than they care to admit and it's hard to come back from that, much as he would like to. She asks questions, gets a watered down version of how they met, expresses her joy that Craig's left bartending now that he's finished his studies and can start practicing law. She advises Buck to remember that living together is hard work and requires lots of communication and compromise. But she's wrong. At least when it comes to Craig, because he's so incredibly nice and accommodating about everything. Sometimes Buck wonders if his new partner has taken him on as some sort of a project, someone that must be saved from themselves and therefore is understood to be too fragile for any demands. Maybe he should say something, but he's drained and isn't even confident about what he'd want to say. Who complains about things being too good, running too smoothly? If anything, it would be proof of how damaged and in need of saving from himself he is.

One day, by chance, Craig comes across an old photo album that Buck had stashed away in his closet. Together with the box of Christopher's greeting cards, they're the only testaments to the true loves of his life and they were meant to remain buried deep. The album holds the photographs that he can't bring himself to look at and when Craig is asking him about them, holding the pages open, Buck's forced to. 

It hurts to see the old pictures. He remembers the good times he used to have with Eddie, with Chris, with the 118 when his eyes fall on those familiar images. Worse, he remembers how happy he was before things changed. He can sense the echoes of everyone's love and how it used to surround him. He's startled to realize what a difference it makes, not only to have love, but to have it from the people that he chose, that he would choose again if only he could. It's nothing like Craig's love, even though he should be grateful for it. Even though in his way, he is. But the loss, what he once had and never will again, stares back at him from between the album's pages. The loss is a monster, gnawing at his insides with the cruelty of being deprived and the desperation left when he utterly failed to keep this love in his life. 

The Buck in those pictures was a different man. Even his appearance was, he wasn't frayed around the corners of his eyes, in the folds of his wrinkles. He didn't bear the physical marks of unhappiness. His smile wasn't just big, it was bright and genuine.

Craig looks at him and smiles, as any partner would when getting to see another piece of the person they wish to know best. He turns the pages and listens to mumbled explanations, unaware that while they may not be lies, they are shortened versions of the truth. Vague descriptions of the team as a whole, omitting the most important emotional essence. Refusing to linger on Eddie with words in the same way Buck's eyes do on every turned page. He lets his boyfriend go on like that. If he tried to pry the album out of Craig's hands, he'd only be met with resistance and questions anyway. Better to allow curiosity to be sated and move on from this, never to speak of it again.

Because Craig is a good man. He pulled Buck out of dark waters and brought him back to a safe shore. And there's no one in the world that he has more sympathy for or that he can identify with more than his unsuspecting boyfriend. They both love a man while they are doomed to have their love be unrequited. The one difference between them is that Craig never has to know that. Buck can repay his debt by making sure this man will forever remain unaware that his feelings aren't returned.

He takes the album after the last page is reached, puts it aside, pulls Craig close and hugs him.

Buck says the things that would mean, 'I choose you,' regardless of how unromantic his choice may be and lets Craig's interpretation lead to another conclusion. They kiss. Because that's what couples in love are meant to do. Then they fall into bed and it's better than a dark bathroom stall in a club, even if this too has splinters of self hatred. And if it doesn't mean to Buck what it should have or what it does to Craig, well. That's just how things are.

While his partner is in the shower and Buck's letting the remnants of sex seep out of his body, he rolls over and takes the album from the bedside table that he placed it on. The happier version of him is right there, in the picture that his gaze lands on, talking to Eddie just as the shot is snapped. How did no one see it? The love on Buck's face is as clear as his birthmark, both of these undeniably integral parts of him and impossible to erase. Eddie's smiling back in the photograph. It's wide and easy, it's happy, but it's not in love. There's a crack left in Buck's chest, in the space that his heart used to occupy, which somehow, even now, manages to ache and break wider in response.

The shower water is still running and the sound reminds him to hurry up. He gets out of bed, picks up the album and tiptoes his way to the closet. It should be burned, but Buck can't bring himself to do that. He also can't put it back in its previous place, because he can't come across it again, it's too raw for him. It probably always will be. Instead, he places it on the highest shelf above the coat rack and makes a mental note to find another hiding place when Craig isn't home, a spot that can be sealed off with a lock and key.

If only emotions worked that way as well.

Things sort of settle for Buck. He's back to doing a good job on calls and while he's not completely off the hook, his captain is willing to look past the rough patch that he had. He lives with Craig. He sees Maddie and her family on holidays. It's a routine and it's better than how he was before.

For their fifth anniversary, Craig wants to go out for dinner. He chooses a nice restaurant, not too far from where they had their first coffee together. It's a sweet gesture. Buck probably should have seen it coming from that alone, but he didn't think it was a proposal dinner right up until the moment when Craig pulls out a small jewelry box, all nervous. 

If Eddie ever did this, it would have never come as a surprise. Buck would have known, would have read all the small signs beforehand. Maybe even weeks in advance. But his former best friend would have never done this. And Christopher's greeting cards have become rarer and rarer over time until they stopped arriving altogether. It makes sense, he's growing up and older kids are not as inclined to drawing cards. Especially not for someone who they haven't seen in years and who has never replied. And Craig is here, looking at him with expectant eyes. It should have been one of the happiest days of his life, but it's not joy that fills Buck up, it's shame and guilt, when he says yes.

He gets to see Bobby and Hen once more. One particular Christmas, when he's back to visit without Craig, because his fiance has a big case coming up in court that he needs to prepare for. Buck's there to see Maddie, Chim and his beautiful little niece, who's growing up way too fast without him around. His sister and brother-in-law spring his two old teammates on him. It's good and awful at the same time. Good, because he still loves and misses the 118, they're still as much his family in the innermost parts of him as Chimney officially is since his marriage to Maddie. And it's awful, because it serves as a reminder of how many things his life is lacking. How many irreplaceable people. Even when they all meet again. They're his family, but they're an estranged one. He's out of touch with their lives and every update they share drives that point home. He knows them, but he no longer recognizes the people they have been growing into in his absence. He admires everything that they had accomplished, but he wasn't there to witness it. 

They look at him with expressions that tell Buck they want him back, but don't understand why he's left in the first place. Maybe they've guessed the reason, or entertained the notion among others they've considered, but they don't fully grasp what drove him away. They don't get the abyss of pain and despair that not having Eddie dropped him into, so they can't comprehend how that would be motivation enough for him to move away from them as well. There's a sense of betrayal underlying their lack of understanding and that paralyzes him, stops him from being able to make his way back to their vicinity, physically and emotionally. And he can't explain any of it either. Pain is just a word to them, it's not the state of being that it has become for him. Maybe there was a time when Bobby could relate to Buck's loss, but he has shut that time away from his mind, thanks in great part to Athena's love. What the two of them have is real and healing in a manner that blocks Bobby from getting it, too. And that's for the better, Buck doesn't want his former Captain to revisit the memory of the abyss. 

But it leaves a new gap between them, he senses it stretching and knows how surely and devastatingly he'll fall if he tries to cross it when there is no bridge that can be built over it. 

Dinner ends with a round of pleasantries and mutual, empty assurances that they need to do this more often, all of them more than aware they won't. Once Bobby and Hen have both left, so does Buck, even though he wasn't supposed to. The bed that was laid out for him must be cozy and the motel bed he'll end up in will be cold, but he heads out anyway. It was too much and he can't remain in the same space that they all occupied together only a short while ago. He never tells Maddie explicitly why he left that night, but she never again invites his old team members over while he's there. Not that it matters. Afterwards, he starts skipping, on occasion, holidays with her and Chim anyway.

Buck's wedding is nothing more than a small registry ceremony. Nothing fancy, no big affair or party afterwards. They forego having lots of guests, only their immediate families and a few of Craig's friends are there and no big speeches are made. It's at Buck's insistence. He's just not that good with expressing his emotions in front of a lot of people, he explained to his fiance, and he hates these big, mushy events. These aren't exactly lies, this is who Buck has come to be and the man he's about to marry, who has never met the person he once was, accepts it all without doubt.

They had a talk about kids a long while before the wedding. Or rather, Craig spoke of his lack of desire to be a parent and Buck agreed. A part of him still wanted to be a father, but not like this. Not when he was hollow and for the most part doing little more than gliding through life, trying not to have it destroyed completely to avoid hurting those who loved him even now. A child deserves better than an empty shell for a dad. Craig, for his part, reacted like they'd won the lottery, being in agreement on this. Buck didn't explain the nuanced difference between them when it came to passing up on parenthood.

Craig is a good man and he does his best to give them a good life. In return, Buck never strays, never even thinks of leaving his husband or looking at anyone else and this status quo they've been maintaining from the start keeps working out for both of them. It's his husband who points out the white hairs that have appeared on Buck's head. Because he's how people are supposed to be, mindful of the passage of time. It's his husband who gives in to its mercilessness and passes away first.

Buck was by his side the whole time, holding his hand, until Craig stopped breathing. He kept his matrimonial commitment as much as he could throughout their life together to its very end. His one infidelity wasn't up to him. The occasional stray thought of Eddie wasn't something he could ever control. There were two occasions Buck felt the guiltiest for. That he thought about the true love of his life while marrying another man. And that Eddie was present in his thoughts as Craig's pulse weakened and disappeared under his touch.

The following years without his husband surprise him. Not the part where everyday chores become more difficult as he further ages and it's harder to deal with that without a partner. Those were becoming trickier to navigate even while Craig was still around. No, what he didn't expect was that even though he's alone now, he's not lonelier than he was before. It's how he comes to realize just how lonely he has actually been throughout the entirety of his marriage. He adds that insight to the weight of the backpack he's carrying his remaining years in.

Then finally, it's Buck's turn. He looks at the orderly taking his blood pressure while he's lying in his hospital bed. He harbors a certain kind of sad pity for the young man. He's basically a boy and soon, he will have to deal with an old man's body and it won't be easy on him. It might be his line of work, but this kid is new, he's not used to dealing with someone in his care passing away yet. It might even be that he hasn't lost his first patient so far. When it will come, it's going to be rough on him. Buck can tell, he sees his former, naive self in this orderly's face.

But his eyes. This young man's eyes remind Buck of Eddie's.

So many regrets are laying in this bed together with him. The biggest one is all those years he's spent away from Eddie, all in an attempt to get over the man who was his best friend, or at least leave him behind. Buck can accept it now: it didn't work to any degree, not for a single second. Even long after the orderly exits the room, Eddie's warm brown eyes are alive in Buck's mind. They are still what he dreams of every night and the ghost of that man's smile always haunts his days. The pain never subsided, nor did it let up. He just learned how to live with it in a way that allowed him to function and if along the years there were moments when he thought he had gotten some respite from it, he can admit now that he never did. Eddie was in everything, surrounding him at all times.

Their separation meant Buck didn't have to see him giving his whole heart to someone else on a daily basis, but there was never the briefest of instances when the thought about it wasn't present... Eddie was out there somewhere, living his life with his family. And Buck never stopped knowing that. Or belonging to the man who didn't belong to him. The knife never stopped bleeding him dry no matter how far he tried to get away from it, creating a wound that could not be closed.

When Buck draws in what he realizes is his last breath, he finally grasps the tragedy of his own life. It's not that he cut Eddie out of it, he had to do that. If he hadn't, it might have killed him a long time ago, hurting the people who cared for him and erasing the good that he did get to do in this world. His tragedy is not even that he lost Christopher in the process. There was no other choice for him than to step away and make room for the boy's new parent. And it isn't having spent the rest of his life married to a man that he was fond of at best, either. Settling and compromising was the most he could realistically hope for. 

No, the tragedy of Buck's life is that Eddie was, in fact, his soulmate, as rare as having one in this harsh world is. And there is no changing that, no fighting it, nor moving on from your soulmate, there is no getting over them, even when they aren't yours.


	2. Cause Soulmates Never Die

It's the photo album and Christopher's drawn greeting cards that give him away. He had buried his memories after Craig had found the photo album. Buck had placed everything together in a locked box which he had then hid inside one of the air conditioner's venting shafts. He has handled enough of those during his time as a firefighter and his fiance would never look there.

But 'never' takes a turn when Buck returns from a shift one day, tired and desperate to sleep his exhaustion off, only to find Craig sitting by their dining room table, the locked box right in front of him. The technician who came to fix the AC, which had broken down, pulled it out of the ventilation shaft.

"I think you have something you should tell me," his fiance states.

Buck wants to deny and argue, but he doesn't have the energy for it. Nor the motivation, not when on some level, this relationship was always built on quicksand. It was bound to drop from beneath his feet. Might as well get it over with. So he opens up the locked box and his past to Craig, shares the information he glimpsed over the last time they had this photo album positioned between them.

"And you've never confronted him?" Craig doesn't say Eddie's name, not for lack of remembering because Buck has just repeated it more than enough.

"There was no reason to. He was in love with Ana."

"Maybe that's the reason. If you hear it from that... guy," Craig's decidedly unhappy and he's not trying to mask it, "maybe you'll be over him. You won't need to stash away these pictures and lie to me."

"I didn't..."

"You didn't lie? No, you just omitted a lot of crucial facts. Which is lawyer talk for lies."

Buck looks at his hands. Not that long ago, they were covered in soot, pulling a little girl out of a burning room back to safety. Nothing about their size or strength suggests how helpless he is right about now. "I'm sorry."

"What for, Buck? Are you sorry for lying to me and keeping me in the dark? For saying you'd marry me when you haven't even told me who you really are? Or for entering this relationship when you're still hung up on someone else?"

He parts his lips to speak, but his tongue is too heavy, his mouth too dry, his mind full of the wrong answers.

"Don't!" Craig interjects immediately. "Don't make excuses or apologize. Talk to him. Tell him the truth. We can't figure out where we stand until you do." Buck nods without saying another word. It's the last thing he wants to do. But Craig deserves at least that. A confession may be redundant, but at least where Buck and Eddie are now, it at least can't do more damage to their relationship. "Okay. That's settled, at least. Oh, and you should pack a bag. I think it's... healthier for both of us if you don't stay here until it's done."

Eddie's house hasn't changed. Not in terms of its appearance, that has been slightly modified, small touches here and there which Buck notices right away. But it's still the only place that has ever felt like a home to him. That hasn't changed in the slightest.

"Buck?" he hears from behind him. The voice is instantly familiar, but deeper than he remembered it.

He turns around and there Chris is. A teenager. He's considerably taller, the start of a tiny moustache above his upper lip. Looks so much more like Eddie than he used to. His eyes survey Buck and blink rapidly. He takes a few steps forward with his crutches. 

Buck wants to shrink into himself. Whatever anger is going to be directed at him, he's not ready to deal with it. He won't ever be. It was a horrible mistake, stopping here on his way to Maddie and Chimney's house. He should have stuck to the plan, which was to simply ring Eddie. Buck hated the idea of confessing everything over the phone, but actually seeing the rejection on the face of the man he loves would be worse. That's why he was going to call. He decided to do it from his sister's house rather than from a random hotel room. It would be from a smaller physical distance, like some illogical compensation for not being brave enough to do it in person. And it would be with her present as support for when he would undoubtedly collapse, in order to make sure he doesn't go self-destructing again.

But neither Maddie, nor Chim, could make it to the airport to pick him up and driving down the familiar roads of Los Angeles took him mindlessly to this spot. When he realized the house seemed empty, he thought maybe he could indulge himself with a minute or two in front of the building, just to secondhand inhale the presence of the people he wanted to form a unit with so badly.

But those few minutes were enough for Chris to show up. Or is it that Buck's forgotten himself and much more time has passed while he was standing here than he realized? Either way, this got that much more difficult. To see the effect of the years he's missed. To have to walk away again after being next to Christopher again. To absorb whatever accusations he's going to make.

Chris stops right by him and without a single word, maneuvering his clutches expertly, he opens his arms and hugs Buck. "I missed you," he says. His voice is a whole register lower, but still holds the same quiet quality, the same intonation, the calm honesty of the boy who despite all his vulnerabilities, knew very little fear.

The tears prick Buck's eyes with disbelief as he returns the embrace, and with a longing that takes hold of every particle of him. "Still? Despite how long it's been since we last saw each other?"

Christopher's eyes dart across their surroundings before they settle on him. "Did you still miss me?"

Buck swallows around all the things that come charging at him, including the comfort of Chris' hug still lingering around him and the simple truth of his words, reflecting back to him the strength that a bond of love has. He nods. "I do. I miss you every single day." He says nothing more, lets his eyes close and immerse himself in this, even if it'll be torn away from him again in a short while. He may regret it later, but right now, it's irresistible. 

"Hey buddy." It's Eddie's voice. Of course it is, he wouldn't be too far behind if Chris has just returned home. "You have some homework to do, right? Go ahead and start working on it. I'll come help you as soon as I can. I just need to talk to Buck first."

Chris whips his head around and looks at his dad, arms falling out of the embrace. "Will I be able to see him after I'm done?"

Eddie raises his gaze from his son to Buck. "I hope so," he says, without breaking their eye contact for a long moment. Then he looks back at Chris. "Come on." Eddie comes closer and gives the boy's shoulder a gentle nudge in the direction of the house.

Christopher gives Buck a final squeeze before he goes inside. 

There's so much that needs to be said between Eddie and him that when they're left alone, nothing can be. They stare at each other and it's inevitable that they would take in the effects of time. The little wrinkles that were added to Eddie's face telling the stories of worries that Buck wasn't there to hear about, a touch of greyness to the hair. A sadder look in his soulmate's eyes. Because that's what he's sure of right now. Beyond anything else. That this sense of belonging to someone else, despite time and distance, in spite of a complete lack of communication, can only be explained by such a term. For better or for worse.

Buck's brain isn't working properly. That much is clear if all it wants is to find some way to touch that sad gaze in Eddie's eyes and make it better, take some of the hurt away. He breathes in, then out. With the exhale, come the words. "I'm sorry," he finally says. "I didn't mean to fall in love with you."

A blink. Then a long, slow nod. Zero signs of surprise.

"But you knew," Eddie finally speaks, careful, drawing it out, "that I wasn't."

"Yeah, and that you weren't going to be, either."

There's something unreasonably easy about this exchange. It's the hardest confession of Buck's life. He nearly destroyed himself over it. But here, now, standing in front of Eddie again after the years that have passed, when they get each other so well without even trying and despite the years spent apart, it's like being completely naked. The words come out of their own accord and there's no point in hiding anyway.

Eddie looks down at his feet and nods solemnly. "I thought maybe that was the problem. And you were trying to protect me from having to say no to you. From how awkward everything would have been. Especially when Ana would be around."

Buck swallows unshed tears. He can't figure out whether having this confirmation that he guessed things correctly helps or if it's tearing at the corners of his chest.

Eddie makes a gesture and he takes the hint to sit down on the front steps. They both do and look ahead. There's a space between them, but across it, Buck can feel the heat coming from the other man's body. And it makes him long in ways that are both old and new simultaneously.

They sit for a while, completely quiet. As unfinished as this seems, without an idea of what comes next, Buck's simply not sure he has anything else left to say.

It's Eddie who eventually breaks the silence.

"You do get that, in all of that, you forgot to account for change?" Buck blinks and jolts his head to the side at the question, almost like he was physically hit by it. "I'm not saying you were wrong about what I would have done and felt back then, but... things happen. They change. And people do, too. I'm not the same guy I was several years ago."

"What... what are you saying?"

Eddie shrugs, but there's an effort in his voice. Buck finally dares to turn his head and look at him. "I was in love with Ana back then, definitely. But I changed and so did she. Everyone does. In every relationship, actually. When you take the plunge with marriage, you just hope you're going to change in the same direction and... we didn't. Buck..." he bites his lower lip and, despite everything that he's saying, it's achingly familiar. "I lost my best friend and the guy who was my partner. I mean... you really were, not just on the job. Did you think you could leave and that it wouldn't change me?"

Buck's trying to catch onto what Eddie's telling him, but he hesitates. Is he getting it right, or is his interpretation wishful thinking? "You and Ana..."

"We got a divorce, yeah. A beautiful little girl and way too much friction to raise her and Christopher with both of us in the same house. We're sharing custody. I..." Eddie stops and presses his lips together. It used to be Buck's favorite thing, how his face got all unintentionally scrunched up whenever he did that. How expressive it was in general. Those facial gestures, it's unexpectedly comforting to see some things haven't changed, even if they're small ones. "I'd really like you to meet her."

Buck nods before he can even think about it. "Absolutely, yes. I'd love that."

Eddie smiles and it's reassuring to witness that they can still have that between the two of them. A desire to share parts of themselves with the other one and a real smile. That Buck can make Eddie smile.

But then it falls away, faster than it appeared. "Are you... with me... still?"

If it was easier than he would have guessed to confess his feelings, now Buck realizes why. He used the past tense, didn't he? Found a way to hide a little bit after all. And now he's being asked to come out of the shadows in full. Eddie wouldn't reject him, wouldn't push him away. That's clear. Doesn't mean that it's not scary to admit what he'd take with both hands in a split second if only he were afforded that possibility.

He parts his lips and realizes how dry they are from their slight tug against each other when he does. He stalls for one last instant, buries his eyes in the ground, fingernails scratching against the inside of his palm, then - "I am."

Because he is. He always will be. That's what he's learned from being back here. Eddie's his soulmate and there is no getting over that. He can run and hide, he can hold on to that truth with his teeth ground around it, but if Eddie is asking him, point blank? Buck can't lie to him about that.

There's a hand that lands on his shoulder, softly.

"Stay for dinner? Christopher would be heartbroken if you didn't. I'd like my best friend here as well. And I..." The warm hand leaves his shoulder and tilts his chin up until their eyes align, then goes back, as if it's found its place and it's not leaving it anymore. "I'd like the chance to find out if the guy I've changed into can fall in love with you, too. Stay?"

Buck stares back at Eddie's warm gaze and tries to decipher the signs he finds there. For what he should do. For whether his wildest dream can actually come true. He observes the echo of a smile hidden between the wrinkles at the corners of Eddie's eyes and that's more than enough. It's precious and he can't let go of it, whatever comes next, be it a restoration of their friendship or... something he could have only prayed for. The talk with Craig is going to be hard, but it's unavoidable. He wants to stay, has to, whether Eddie ends up returning his feelings or not.

"Dinner sounds great," Buck replies and he can hear how raw and open his own voice is as his hand gently settles over Eddie's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles from Placebo's song, _Sleeping with Ghosts_.


End file.
